


Best Luck

by Torontok



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: M/M, Sexual Content, cheesy as all hell, domestic AU, taohun are babies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-26
Updated: 2015-11-26
Packaged: 2018-05-03 12:45:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5291387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Torontok/pseuds/Torontok
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They've promised each other forever and celebrating the first five years is a start.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Best Luck

**Author's Note:**

  * For [oneforyourfire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/oneforyourfire/gifts).



> A/N: Part four of domestic ChenRis au, written in collaboration with . Read her fics in this au [here](http://caniignite.livejournal.com/tag/chenris) and mine [here. This is very cheesy, consider yourselves forewarned.Thank you to Vibeke and Lily for betaing. Sundial,I'm still winning.](http://torontok.livejournal.com/tag/chenris%20domestic%20au)

“Are you ready?” Taeil hovers over his skin with the tattoo gun, waiting for Yifan’s nod before he presses down, the hum of the needle loud in the enclosed space. Yifan breathes out slowly as he tries to relax and ignore the way his arm is slowly going numb from the weight of his head as he lies on his side. This certainly isn’t his first foray into inking but Taeil hadn’t been lying when he said ribcage ones hurt. It’ll be worth it though and luckily today’s appointment is short, the majority of the tattoo having been finished in their previous sessions.

“So have you made reservations yet?” Taeil asks, round frames sliding down his nose as he hunches over, colouring in lines. Yifan nods. “Some French place downtown that Luhan recommended. Had to beg them to get us a table for Friday but I managed.” Taeil hums, dabbing away excess ink. “French food? You trying to remind him of your honeymoon? Where did you two go, Paris?”

“No, Jeju for a weekend, then Montreal. Too broke for Paris.” It hadn’t been any less amazing, kissing Jongdae on the beach, sand hot under his back, the taste of salt still clinging to their lips. And then walking hand in hand with Jongdae through Montreal’s streets, playing interpreter with what little French he’d managed to retain from four years of high school. ”I can’t believe it’s been five years.” He admits and the tattoo artist laughs. “It always feels that way. One minute you’re buying your first house, the next second you have two kids and a minivan. Speaking of which, who’s taking the twins?”

“Hakyeon and Taek offered and the boys like them so it should be fine. Jongdae will probably still call them seven time to check though.”

“Like you’re any less of a worrywart.” Yifan laughs, acknowledges the point. The humming of the needle stops as Taeil flicks the machine off, making quick work of cleaning and covering the skin. “Alright, you’re all set. I’m sure you know all the aftercare by now but the pamphlets are by the door just in case.” He wheels his chair away as Yifan sits up slowly, not wanting to irritate the newly tender skin as he pulls his shirt on. Taeil watches him, one eyebrow quirked in amusement. “So how exactly do you plan on concealing that till Friday?”

“It can’t be too hard.” Yifan shrugs, wincing as he stretches his now numb arm out. ‘We have two toddlers, it’s easy to distract him.” He glances at the clock, cursing when he sees the time. “Speaking of, I need to go pick them up from Luhan’s.”

He can hear shrieks even as he stands at the door and he sends a silent prayer to the heavens that Tao hasn’t broken anything today. Luhan looks dishevelled as he opens the door, tiny black handprints smeared down the front of his shorts. He follows Yifan’s gaze to the stained material, chuckles softly. “They had waffles for lunch and Sehun got over enthusiastic with the chocolate syrup. Come one, they’re with Seon.”

Yifan always gets the same feeling when he sees his babies, after even a few hours of separation, the rush of warmth that fills his chest as he stands in the entrance of Luhan’s living room. Minseon is holding Sehun, Tao on her other side mashing the buttons of the remote and making the TV go spastic in the corner. Sehun spots him first and lets out a shriek, alerting his brother who kicks the remote to the ground in his eagerness to get to him. Minseon puts a protective hand in front of a wriggling Tao, giving Yifan a smile as he comes forward to collect his overexcited ward. “They woke up from their nap early. Blame Luhan if they don’t sleep tonight, he’s the one who let them have the chocolate.”

“I’ll make sure to pass that on to Jongdae.” He hefts Tao in his grip, letting him press messy kisses to his cheeks, dried chocolate still smeared on his face. “Have you been making a mess, little peach?” he coos, reaching over to wipe at the smudge. “Been giving Aunty Seon a hard time?”

Sehun lets out an angry cry at his brother getting all the attention, twisting in Minseon’s hold until she stands and passes him over to Yifan. Luhan re-enters, the twins’ baby bag in hand. “You sure you don’t want to stay for dinner?”

“Love to but can’t. Jongdae’s getting back from Siheung tonight and I know he’ll want to see them.”

“Did you get the ink done?” Minseon asks, her own heavily tattooed arms crossed over her chest. She and Yifan bond over this shared love of body art while their spouses joke about the two delinquents they’ve married. Yifan nods, shifting Tao slightly so that he can tug his shirt up to show the bandage. “You weren’t kidding, ribs hurt like a bitch.”

“But they look so pretty.“ Luhan leers, wrapping his arms around her from behind and giving her a look that has Yifan eager to leave before his babies have to witness some very age inappropriate actions. Luhan helps him carry the bags out, stashing them in the trunk as Yifan attempts to wriggle chubby arms through car seat straps. Once everyone’s suitably seated they wave goodbye, Yifan having to suffer through the twins’ favorite Wiggles CD on the ride home (and no, he absolutely does not hum along.)

Jongdae’s home when he arrives, bags still stacked in the hallway behind him as he answers the door, face lighting up as he sees his babies. The boys for their part all but pitch a fit when they see him and he’s all too happy to hand them over, letting Jongdae laugh at their excitement, press kisses to tiny chubby fists. “Did you miss appa?” he asks Sehun, getting a loud raspberry in response. He seems to have forgotten about Yifan, still standing in the doorway but he doesn’t mind, just lets himself in and puts the water on.

Jongdae finally kisses him hello when he gets to the living room with the cups, ever careful not to spill any. ”Missed you.”

“Missed you too.” Sehun lets out a displeased grunt from where he’s being squashed between them and they part, Tao crawling into Yifan’s lap. He traces Jongdae’s cheekbone tenderly, frowning a little at the dark rings under his eyes. “How’s Umma doing?”

Jongdae sighs, slumping into his side. “Not well. She insists she can manage on her own but she’s getting slower and I’m worried that next time it’ll be more than a sprained ankle. Jongdeok’s trying to talk her into moving in with him but she’s stubborn.” He presses his forehead to Yifan’s shoulder, hums softly against him. “I can’t wait for Friday. It’ll be nice to relax after a long time.” Yifan stiffens when Jongdae presses a bit too close to the tattoo, subtly trying to shift away. “I’m going to make sure you have the best time.” he says, pressing a kiss to his husband’s forehead. “You deserve it.” Jongdae’s eyes are drooping and Yifan nudges him. “Go to bed, you must be tired from the bus ride.”

Jongdae yawns. “Do you need help getting them to bed?” 

“I can manage. Go.” Sehun is currently involved in a staring contest with Tao, one that quickly turns into squealing when Tao reaches out and smacks his twin in the face. Yifan can already tell that he’s going to have his hands full tonight.

It takes an hour to get the twins tired enough to fall asleep without protest and he tries to be quiet on his way back to the room.The tattoo has faded into a dull ache at his side as he changes, almost letting out a girlish scream when Jongdae flicks the lamp on, shirt held in front of him to cover the bandage. His husband squints at him, confused. “Why are you wearing a shirt?”

He would notice, especially since Yifan is very vocal about his hatred for any extra heat while sleeping. He steps back into a darker corner of the room, trying to pull it on quickly. “Just felt a bit chilly.” It’s mid July. Jongdae looks confused but lets it go, patting the bed beside him. “Come here, big boy.” He’s smirking, fully aware of the effect the nickname has on him and Yifan swallows hard, heading over to his side of the bed. Jongdae tugs him down, one hand firm on the back of his neck as he kisses him again, with intent this time. “Missed you.” he breathes out, nipping at his jaw, knows it makes Yifan shudder. “So fucking much.”

Yifan seconds the sentiment, responds eagerly until they’re both panting, Jongdae shifting so Yifan is looming over him, hands tracing at his waistband. He stiffens when he feels Jongdae try to slide a hand up his shirt, dangerously close to the bandage and wiggles away. Jongdae looks confused and he scrambles for an excuse. “I’m kind of tired. “ He shifts, until Jongdae’s pushed further up the bed, Yifan’s face near his thighs. “Just let me take care of you, okay babe?”

Jongdae’s protests melt off into the prettiest moan, long eyelashes fanning against his cheekbones as he sighs and Yifan will never get tired of this, has always been enamoured with the way Jongdae shows his pleasure, every twitch of his limbs, one hand curling into Yifan’s hair. And he’s too thick for Yifan to do this comfortably, his jaw aching as he sucks him down further, hands stroking what he can’t reach. But ignoring the discomfort is easy when the payoff is seeing Jongdae like this, being the name that rolls off his lips in stuttered gasps. He’s easier to work up today, the telltale quivering of his legs giving him away before he’s coming and Yifan sucks him through it. And even over sensitive and looking thoroughly fucked, Jongdae has the presence of mind to fumble on their nightstand for a tissue for him to spit into. Yifan’s hard, too, almost painfully so but he tries to ignore it, shifting onto his side so that Jongdae can play big spoon, mumble a sleepy good night against his shoulder before he’s out like a light. It takes Yifan a lot longer to follow suit, his arousal refusing to ebb away. It’ll be worth it, he assures himself.

Keeping Jongdae from noticing the tattoo takes more effort than he would have thought. He hadn’t realised how much time he and Jongdae spend naked at any given time. They’re so used to changing in front of each other, shared showers in the morning before the twins wake up, naps with the babies, their beat up air conditioner struggling to cool the room. Yifan ducking out of the routine has Jongdae staring after him perplexed but he doesn’t pursue it. Being the parents of twin toddlers proves to be a blessing since they’re both usually too wiped out to do anything more than cuddle although Yifan has to be ever careful not to roll over onto the wrong side.

Finally it’s Friday and Yifan is thrumming with excitement as he gets ready, convinced that he’s pulled this plan off perfectly. There has been a sticky moment earlier this morning when one of Tao’s feet had caught him in the side as he’d lifted him into the pram and Jongdae had looked concerned when Yifan buckled over. He’d managed to reassure him he was fine, pushing him out the door with one final kiss goodbye.

Taekwoon and Hakyeon come over to pick up the boys, their matching overnight bags already packed, a notebook crammed with instructions shoved into their hands. Taekwoon goes to move the car seats from Yifan’s van to their own and then they’re off, tiny hands waving from the backseat. Yifan has to put music on, the house feeling strangely silent without twin shrieks echoing off it’s walls.

He’s meeting Jongdae at the restaurant, so it’s a rush to shower and get changed. He carefully peels the bandage away, angling himself to see the tattoo better. It’s still red, the edges slightly swollen but the image is clear. He traces careful fingers over the edge, picturing Jongdae’s face once he sees it. His phone beeps, a KKT notification from Jongdae. It’s just a simple one line sentence. _Meet me at the basketball court_ and Yifan grins down at the screen, feeling hopelessly endeared. That sentence, it’s become an inside joke of theirs, a reference back to that one chilly night in December when Yifan had kissed Jongdae for the first time, had taken the final step in giving up his heart wholly to him. Jongdae likes to text it to him at random times and it never fails to send a wave of affection over Yifan as he types back on automatic the same response he’d sent all those years ago. _I’ll be there in ten. Wear your scarf, it’s freezing outside._.

The weather today is too balmy for any scarves but Jongdae is wearing a large smile when Yifan pulls up outside his workplace, barely waiting for him to finish his greeting before he’s pressing their lips together. Yifan indulges him for a few minutes before remembering that they’re still in Jongdae’s office parking lot and any of his co-workers could walk by right now. Jongdae’s smile is fond as he smoothes a thumb over his cheekbone. “Hi, handsome.”

And it’s just the kind of cheesy movie line Jongdae would use but it still makes him flush. “You’re not too bad yourself.” he replies and Jongdae snorts, settling into his seat. And it’s true, even in his regular work suit Jongdae is stunning, hair swept back up off his forehead and the red of his shirt contrasting beautifully with his skin. He’s wearing the wristwatch Yifan had given him for his birthday two years back, the one he only breaks out for special occasions, leather band bumping against his own wrist. Jongdae fumbles with the radio knobs as Yifan pulls out of the parking lot. “So where are we going for dinner?”

The French restaurant is near the outskirts of the city and it’s a long drive to get there. Jongdae dozes off halfway through, face smushed against Yifan’s shoulder. The purple of his eyebags stands in sharp contrast to his skin and it makes Yifan’s heart ache. Jongdae who has so much to deal with, from work to his mother, his own family and bears it all without complaint even when it leaves him drained. He deserves for tonight to be perfect and the thought makes Yifan even more nervous.

Jongdae finally wakes up once they’re near the entrance of the restaurant, blinking sleepily as he tries to decipher the letters on the sign. “Oh, I know this place.” he yawns out, muffling the sound against Yifan’s shoulder. “My boss took his wife here for her birthday, wouldn’t stop complaining about the prices.”

“Don’t worry, I took out a second mortgage, we can afford some water and a few appetizers.” He passes the keys over to the valet as they exit the car, Jongdae’s hand finding his on automatic as they head for the entrance. They wait in line to be seated, Jongdae tugging on Yifan’s tie with a smile. “You don’t wear this one often.”

The garish yellow tie had been a gift from one of Yifan’s co-workers and Jongdae had forbidden him from throwing it away even though he loathed the sight of it. “Tao picked it out.” He’d been ironing his clothes earlier today, taking his ties out and seating the twins in front of it. “Pick the one Baba should wear.”

Sehun had been eyeing a maroon one but he gets knocked onto his side as Tao takes off in a rapid crawl, chubby fists yanking at the yellow one and Yifan is aghast. “That one Taozi? Are you sure?” He pulls another one off, holding it in front of him for inspection. “Isn’t the blue one nicer?”

Tao had blown a raspberry in response and Yifan had accepted defeat. Sehun had been put in charge of selecting cufflinks, which is why Yifan currently has two different kinds on (Sehun had almost swallowed the second one but Jongdae doesn’t need to know that.) He seems more amused than anything. “You should have let them pick your clothes out too.”

“Knowing our boys, I’d have ended up in board shorts and a parka.” The maître d’ leads them to their table, placing menus in front of them. Jongdae flicks through his. “Do you think they have that duck thing we had in Montreal?”

“Which one?”

“You know, that night when we drunk-dialled room service and you scared the delivery boy because you forgot to put on pants.” There’s a teasing edge to Jongdae’s smirk and Yifan swallows hard as he recalls exactly what they’d been up to before the delivery boy had knocked. The waiter returns and Jongdae spends a few minutes bombarding the poor guy with descriptions of the dish in the vain hope that he’ll know what they’re referring to. He doesn’t but the food he recommends instead is still great and Jongdae is pleased. They’re two bottles of wine deep by dessert and he’s already turning a pretty shade of rose. He’s playing with his wedding band now, a wistful look on his face. “Five years. Who would have thought.”

“You promised me forever, don’t get too excited at five years.” Jongdae kicks him under the table for that, blowing an apologetic kiss when Yifan pouts at him. “I know, I know, it’s just… I never thought I was the marrying type and now look. I have a husband. I’ve _been_ someone’s husband for five years.” His smile is childishly bright and Yifan wants so badly to lean over and kiss him. He settles for linking their fingers together, his much large fingers, dwarfing Jongdae’s own. “And someone’s dad for almost a year and a half.”

“Jesus, it’s been that long.” Jongdae’s wine glass has migrated precariously close to the edge of the table and Yifan tries to subtly move it out of his reach. “Is this what it feels like to get old, Yifan?”

“I’ve been feeling that way since I had to google what a tax return was.” He signals the waiter for the cheque as Jongdae stands, swaying slightly on his feet. “I’m gonna call Hakyeon.” he says, the slur in his words giving away how tipsy he really is as he bends down to peck Yifan’s cheek. “Don’t leave without me.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Jongdae hasn’t returned by the time Yifan’s paid and he gestures for the valet to wait as he goes hunting for his stray spouse. He finds Jongdae in the restaurant's small garden, phone pressed against his ear and when Yifan gets closer, he realises he’s singing. It takes him a few seconds to place the song and he wants to burst into laughter when he does. Of all the nights for Jongdae to pick this as their children’s bedtime song. He hears Jongdae mumble something into the phone before hanging up and turning to face him. “Hakyeon said they’re asleep now.”

“Your voice always has that effect on them.” The valet is still waiting and Yifan fishes through his jacket pockets. “Do you have any spare change for the kid-” he cuts off his sentence when he sees that Jongdae has already tipped the boy and is waiting in the passenger seat. Prepared as always.

Jongdae hums softly as they pull out of the parking, nuzzling into Yifan’s arm. “That was nice. It’s been awhile since we’ve been on a proper date.” Most of their “dates” nowadays consist of fobbing the children off on Yifan's mother and ordering takeout. Or napping. Jongdae plants a kiss on his cheek, eyes crinkling up in the corners. “Thank you.”  
“The surprise isn’t over yet.” Yifan takes a left turn, one that deviates from the main road back to their place and he can see Jongdae’s surprised expression out of the corner of his eye. “It’s our fifth anniversary, did you think I was going to end it at just a dinner.”

“What is it?” Jongdae demands, pinching Yifan’s arm when he gets only a grin in response. “Tell me!” The assault continues, growing from pinches to tickles and Yifan is worried he’s going to crash the car. “Okay, okay, stop that!” Jongdae withdraws his devilish fingers and Yifan eyes him warily as they stop at a traffic light. “I went to see Taeil.”

It takes a second for Jongdae to understand but when he does his gasp is loud enough to be heard over the radio. “Is that why you were so weird all week?” He asks, hands already probing along Yifan’s biceps. “What did you get done?”

“That’s for you to find out.” Yifan is glad that the hotel he’d booked for them is within view because the way Jongdae is feeling him up has him very tempted to pull over. Jongdae’s excitement only seems to grow as he takes in the hotel, a charming, rustic building with marble floors and wide gardens on either side. They check in, Jongdae all but snatching the room keys out of the receptionist's hand before dragging Yifan to the elevators. Even before the doors are finished closing, he has his mouth on Yifan’s neck and hands tugging at the hem of his shirt. It’s intoxicating, almost feels as if they’re reckless college students again, and Yifan moans shamelessly as Jongdae tugs him down by the tie, small hands making the ugly material look infinitely more appealing. “Can’t wait to take this off you, big boy.”

It’s probably good that the hallways is deserted as Yifan struggles with the keycard, Jongdae’s hand having migrated to the front of his pants and now squeezing with intent. The door finally opens and they stumble in, almost knocking over a complimentary gift basket in the process. Jongdae is in control now, pushing Yifan back onto the bed. Yifan lies pliant as eager fingers work on his shirt buttons before switching course and heading for his belt buckle and he’s more than happy to comply, raising his hips so that Jongdae can tug them off. It feels like Jongdae’s hands are everywhere at once, tracing along the width of his thighs, grip firm as he spreads them apart. Yifan may or may not shriek a little when Jongdae bends down to bite at the tattoo on his inner thigh, the one that marks him as his. It’s always been Jongdae’s favorite. But he doesn’t pay as much attention to it as he normally would, more focused on finding the new ink. He smacks at Yifan’s hip. “Turn over.”

Yifan complies, turning over on his stomach and huffing out a laugh when he feels Jongdae go straight for his ass, tugging his underwear off and throwing it off to the side. He gropes Yifan for a bit before smacking him. “I’m disappointed, I was hoping for a tramp stamp.”

“Even I’m not tacky enough for that.” Jongdae snorts, hands sliding under Yifan’s shirt to scrape nails across the small of his back. “Turn over.” He seems a bit distracted by Yifan’s cock when it comes into view, already straining for attention but ignores to it to continue unbuttoning his shirt. More of Yifan’s ink comes into view now and his husband doesn’t fail to appreciate, tracing over swirling black lines as he hunts for the newest one.

Yifan almost thinks he’s missed it but then Jongdae gasps, fingers finding the skin of his ribs as he traces over the lines. The skin is still tender but Jongdae’s touch is gentle as he traces the straight lines, the curving notes positioned in between. “A music sheet?”. Yifan nods and waits. Jongdae pushes his arm aside to see the design better, fingers tracing over a treble clef as he begins to hum to himself. He does this twice more before stopping, mouth dropping open. “This is our wedding song?” 

Yifan, who lacks any sort of instrumental talent, had to bribe Chanyeol to listen to the song from their wedding video and try and write the music by ear. Chanyeol had threatened to charge him extra because “if I have to watch you two be sappy on tape one more time, I’m going to throw up.” Yifan can kind of understand what he means. In the wedding video, it shows a stunned Yifan blinking back tears as he sits in the middle of the dance floor, Jongdae holding his hand as he sings to them. They hadn’t known what to do for their first dance after Yifan sprained his ankle three days before the ceremony, had decided to just have Jongdae dance with Yifan’s mom. Instead he’d spent those three days holed away in the studio with Yixing, working on that song and then performed it in front of all their guests and an unsuspecting Yifan. Yifan still blames Jongdae for the fact that he’d looked puffy-eyed and bloated in all their reception pictures post-performance.

“How did you even get the sheet music?” Jongdae hasn’t stopped touching the tattoo, look on his face almost reverential. “God, I haven’t thought about this in forever.” Fingers are replaced by lips, Jongdae careful not to press too hard as he maps the area with kisses. It’s something he does with every new tattoo, probably doesn’t even realise it's a habit, but Yifan loves the gesture. The artwork on his skin may be his own but once Jongdae’s done sucking bruises over each design, it becomes his too. And this one, this one is definitely for both of them. “Do you like it?”

“Do you really need an answer?” Jongdae huffs out a laugh but moves to kiss him anyways, hands coming up to cup his face in an uncharacteristically sweet gesture. “It’s perfect.” Another kiss, presses to Yifan’s nose this time. “You’re perfect.”

Yifan wants to prolong the tenderness of the moment but then Jongdae shifts again, ass rubbing at his erection and he moans, hips bucking up on instinct. Jongdae laughs again, the tone decidedly more mocking this time as he grinds back deliberately. “Okay, I get it, no more cheese, you want to get to the good stuff.” Yifan tries to protest but words get caught in his throat as Jongdae ruts back against him, fingers occupied with rubbing at his nipple, tongue tracing over the other one and Yifan’s dick twitches between them, desperate for more friction. “Dae-”

Jongdae relents, pulls away to strip ever so slowly out of his work clothes, eyes locked on his as he slowly undoes each button and Yifan wants to snap at him to not be a tease, not tonight, please. But he stays still, hands fisted at his sides as he watches, because Jongdae always calls the shots. And if he’s being honest, he loves it that way. The shirt finally comes off and Yifan waits impatiently for the dress pants to follow suit. Except Jongdae moves to start kissing at his neck, and he feels more then sees his smirk when Yifan whines. “Patience.” he coos. “We finally have some time to ourselves. I never get to wreck you properly anymore.”

“We have the whole night.” Yifan whines, petulant and embarrassingly needy, but he’s been deprived all week and he doesn’t think he can hold out through Jongdae’s games. His husband finally acquiesces, taking position between his thighs, one hand holding his legs open in a firm grip as his lube slick fingers begin their exploration. And Yifan loves this, is always pliant when Jongdae stretches him open with practiced ease, knowing exactly how far to go, where to press to elicit pleased moans. Yifan is more impatient than usual, not waiting for the fourth finger before throwing a condom at him. “It’s fine, I can take it.”

The slide in always punches the breath out of him, the juxtaposition of the flickering pain with the satisfaction of the stretch. Jongdae doesn’t wait as long as he normally would, pulling out and thrusting back hard, drawing moans from both of them. And Yifan giggles because despite Jongdae’s act, it’s clear he’s just as worked up as him. They rock together and it’s hardly the romantic, sweet love making Yifan had envisioned, more desperate and messy with them knocking heads as they try to kiss and he almost nails Jongdae in the nose after one particularly strong thrust. Whatever. Sometimes there’s no better way to show how much you love your husband of five years than to fuck him into the mattress. He’ll be sore tomorrow but that’s the least of his concern as Jongdae fists his cock, stroking in a haphazard rhythm that’s out of synch with his thrusts but still has Yifan gasping, hands scrambling to find purchase on Jongdae’s back as his orgasm is drawn out of him. And it takes very little to coax Jongdae to completion after that, eyes fluttering shut as his thrusts get erratic. 

They’re cuddled together in the aftermath, having improvised with a pillowcase for cleanup since both were too lazy to go the bathroom (and Yifan makes a mental note to leave housekeeping a larger tip in the morning.) Jongdae is cuddled up against his side now, still tracing over the tattoo. Yifan nudges him. “Can you sing it to me?”

“Right now?” And it’s endearing how Jongdae always gets shy when he asks him to do this, has no problem singing to their boys or at karaoke nights with friends but in front of Yifan, he always hesitates. He sings now, voice slightly muffled by his pillow. And Yifan still remembers the lyrics, almost nauseatingly saccharine, calling Yifan his luck, the love of his life. Jongdae breaks off mid sentence with a laugh, flicking Yifan on the forehead. “Stop staring at me.” he whines.   
“Can’t help it.” Yifan rolls over until Jongdae is pressed beneath him and for once, the other doesn’t complain about being crushed, just links his hands behind Yifan’s neck, smile tender. “Thank you. For the dinner, the tattoo. Our boys. These past five years.”

“I told you, we promised forever. This is nothing.” he rolls over onto his side and Jongdae shifts, giving him the rare opportunity to be big spoon. His eyelids are already drooping and he’s ready to nod off when Jongdae nudges him. “Hey, what time do we have to check out by?”

“Noon.” Jongdae hums in response, linking their fingers together. “That should give us enough time for rounds two and three. Round four can be in the car. Five can happen if we get the boys asleep early enough.”

Yifan groans into his shoulder. “Jongdae, I think you’re forgetting we’re not teenagers anymore. I don’t think I could do four rounds even when I _was_ a teenager.”

“I have faith in you, big boy.” Jongdae twists around to peck him on the cheek before reaching over to flick the lamp off. “Now sleep.”


End file.
